Hitchin' A Ride
by Samsara Dallire
Summary: Impulsivity thy name is Nick Stokes.


HITCHIN' A RIDE

This idea came to me from the Green Day song of similar title. It takes place shortly after Grave Danger and about 18 months after Assume Nothing.

Be kind but firm in your reviews. I'm still on a learning curve.

Slamming the locker door, Nick slid his shades on and headed straight out to the SUV, not bothering with the formalities of saying goodbye to his co-workers. In fact, if he was lucky, nobody would notice that's he was gone and that's the way he wanted it today.

It seemed as if he could do nothing right. He had just got his car repainted thanks to the bozos who stole it with all the evidence of the wedding murder in it. So at least that was on a plus side. But as the Sheriff pointed out, there could still be 'disciplinarily action.'

Not only that his temples were throbbing slightly.

Coat slung over his arm, Nick had sauntered out of the Crime Lab when he heard his name being called.

He looked around and saw a blonde-haired man dressed in a security guard uniform running towards him, hand extended. Nick smiled politely and extended his own hand while trying to figure out who this guy was.

The blonde due ran up to him dressed in EMO jeans and black, slimming t-shirt.

"Nick, it's me, Kenny Richmond, we ran into each other about two years ago, remember?" Kenny shook Nick's hand vigorously.

The dark-haired Criminalist's smile faded and he nodded, "Oh yea, I remember, and then headed straight over to the first reporter you saw and told them all about Murder Central!" Eyeing Kenny, Nick searched for a reaction.

Looking sheepish, Kenny looked down and ran a hand through his man nervously, "Oh yeah, well I was kind of short on cash and needed to do something about that. Hope I didn't get you into too much trouble."

Snorting, Nick responded sarcastically, "Naw, not too much trouble, just a little thing called jeopardizing my reputation, losing the trust of my colleagues for time, my boss's faith in me."

Looking away, Kenny laughed nervously, "Yeah, well, you know how things go, things slip out of your mouth before you realize it.

Nodding vigorously trying to end this conversation, Nick smiled, "Oh I know, trust me I do."

In a flash, Kenny's facial expression changed from embarrassment to sympathy, "I heard about what happened to you last year. Sorry about that."

"I'm still here." Nick looked over at his truck longingly. All he wanted was to go home, throw back a beer and stretch out in front of the television to check out the Animal Planet Channel and watch shows about Animal Cruelty Investigators rescuing said creatures from cruelty and neglect. Nick had secretly inquired about that at the local one here in Vegas. They'd gladly take a former Criminalist. And for Nick, there'd be lot less stress involved in that and less hassles from bureaucrats.

But the pay sucked! However, animals are much less complicated and don't tell on you, such as the sorry excuse for a human standing in front of him. But his mom always told to be polite, so the painful conversation continued.

"Hey. You still on this planet man?" Kenny asked noticing Nick's had gone into some kind of trace.

"Still here," Nick answered abruptly, "So what brings you to this part of town? Looking for a job?"

"Yeah actually, anything open?" Kenny looked to the dark-haired criminalist hopefully.

"I don't know. Check with Humane Resources." Nick started to turn around and head to his truck.

"Hey Nick," Ken called to the departing CSI, "Listen, let me make it up to you about what happened at the hotel. I'll take you for a beer. What do you say?"

Nick narrowed his eyes suspiciously, trying to get a read on this guy. No longer the trusting Texan he was when he arrived in Las Vegas, he was now careful of whom he kept company with.

Kenny watched Nick, "It's only a beer man."

It was a tough call. Nick wasn't too keen on spending time with someone who nearly sabotaged his career. But people made mistakes, and Nick was pretty forgiving of people.

Most of the time.

"Alright Kenny, just one beer." Nick answered ignoring the red flag waving in his brain.

"Great!!!" Kenny laughed almost gleefully causing Nick to raise an eyebrow, but the CSI shrugged off the momentary suspicion to past events altering his trusting old soul.

"There's a bar around the corner, we can go have a beer, some wings and then come back and pick up our vehicles." Kenny told Nick.

Nick winced as a sharp pain hit his head.

"You okay man?" Kenny asked concerned.

Nick smiled, "Yeah I'm just a bit tired out. Let's go. I'll probably cab it home and get a ride in the morning. I'll just leave a message a reception so they won't worry when they see my truck there."

A couple of hours later..

Nick Stokes looked at his watch and after the double vision blended into one, he realized how late hit was getting.

One beer, discussions of who was doing what with whom led to a second beer, and then to a fourth, and the before Nick knew it, 'Happy Hour' had long past by.

The bar had seen better days, but obviously had a loyal clientele complete with barflies to note. It was dimly lit and Nick had remarked to Kenny that it smelled like a toilet.

Nick's headache refused to go, and he was sure that drinking the beer wasn't the smartest move since yeast can aggravate the sinuses which at this point, he attributed his headache to.

"So tell me man!" Kenny asked munching on a honey garlic wing, "What's it like being a CSI?"

Nick slung an elbow on the table, and slurred goofily, "I shee dead people."

Both men broke into a fit of laughter causing patrons to turn around and look at them strangely.

A tall, blonde wearing tank top and oh-so-mini skirt approached them with a grin on her ruby, red lips. Her blues were coated with black eye liner.

"Hi there, I'm Tracey, do you mind if I join you. There doesn't seem to be any seats left."

Nick looked around quizzically; there were plenty of seats left. Then his eyes caught a basketball game on TV and there they stayed.

"So, I haven't seen you two in here before." She slid into the seat, smiling lusciously at the two studs she lucked into; she especially liked the dark-haired one although his focus was on the basketball game at the moment. That wouldn't last.

Nick had noticed her and dismissed her immediately. This chick reminded him of a blonde Kristi, not so much in looks, but the way she carried herself. She paralleled Kristy's cocky style and mannerisms.

_You could fool ole Nick once, but twice, not a chance._

Kristi. A part of his cornucopia of memories locked away in his soul. Nick never spent a lot of time ruminating over bad memories like cows with their multiple digestive systems. He coped with bad things by simply compartmentalizing them and moving on. Life was too short he learned to dwell on the past.

It was easy to ignore, he was breaking out into sweats and chills.

_Jesus what was going on with him?_

The flirty blonde didn't take the hint. She loved how this dark-haired man was so neatly dressed and clean. He looked professional; his crisp, pressed clothes were indicative of money; not a lot of money, but enough to show that he paid close attention to his appearance. Not to mention those dark, somber eyes that reeked of angst, the strong-jaw-lined that begged to be stroked. That sealed her approval of him, over the security guard with the cheap uniform. Unfortunately for her, she was clueless to the fact that Nick had already figured her out and wasn't about to be easily lynched.

She was not used to be ignored. Her good looks gave her everything in life, and she was going to bank on it as much as she could.

"Waitress!" She snapped her manicured finger nails at a young red-headed girl with a pierced nose passing by with a try masterfully laid on her palm. The waitress gave the blonde chick a bored look.

"Get me another pitcher for my two friends here." Tracey smiled.

"Sure." The waitress sighed and darted off back to the bar.

"So what do you do?" She asked, her question directed more at Nick then the security guard.

Kenny smiled eagerly, "I..uh..do security for a hotel."

Hands under chin, she smiled politely at Kenny and then asked Nick outright, "And what do you do basketball man?"

Nick turned around, "Uh?"

"What do you do for a living?" she smiled, her bleached teeth for him.

"Nick sees dead people!" Kenny slurred out.

The CSI turned back to the TV laughing, "I see dead people alright, chopped up, propped up, logged up, stopped up, stuffed and ready to go bye bye!!!"

The widescreen multiplied from one to three like amoebas. Grissom would so love that analogy.

Nausea hit him like fist to the solar plexus. Nick pushed himself up on wobbly feet, mumbled his apologies to Kenny and Tracey and trip-topped towards the bathroom, bumping into some patrons on the way.

He barely made it to the stall when he heaved up everything, beer mixed with wings like a milkshake with pieces of meat bobbing about like a bowl of stomach contents from a DB that they often had to sift through to figure out a victim's last meal. The sight in the toilet made Nick vomit even more, the dank smell filling his nostrils kept him heaving until the pit of stomach was empty. He heard footsteps as other patrons made their way out at the grotesque sounds.

Nick heard the door opening and someone saying "Don't go in there, it smells like a decomposed body."

Embarrassed, he called out weakly, "You think that's bad, you should smell a liquefied decomp…mmm.tasty."

He steadied himself against the walls of the stall and slowly turned around to go to the sink to wash up.

Nick looked down at the sink decorated by a red ring around the rim indicative that house cleaning was not a priority in this bar. He turned the tap on and watched as the water trickled out. Indicative of low water pressure; but Nick made do as he cupped his hands under the cool liquid and splashed his face a couple of times and then rinsed his mouth out of the smell.

He looked in the mirror and was startled to see how pale he was. He resembled one of Doc Robbin's bodies sans autopsy. Nick knew something was wrong with him. Even after drying his face on some paper towel, he could feel sweat trickling down his back.

_I got the damn flu!!_

_Or food poisong?_

On that thought, images of toxins attacking his intestines danced in his brain.

His stomach was rumbling again, so Nick pulled some mint-flavoured gum out and began to chew. Mint was good for gastro pain, also freshened his mouth a bit. Greg had half-joked with him earlier when he complained of stomach pain that it was the beginning of an ulcer.

To be polite, Nick found a can of air freshener and sprayed around not wanting to subject anyone further to the odours of his ailment.

While taking one last look in the mirror, the bathroom door opened and Nick turned to see Tracey casually strolling in.

Nick chuckled at her, "Uhhhh…I think you got the wrong room as I saw it, the ladies room is just to the left."

She smiled flirtatiously and responded, "No I think I got the right place."

Tracey strolled over to Nick and started kissing him. Too weak from beer and a slight fever, Nick could barely resist as she pushed him into the stall he had just barfed in and slammed the door shut.

Kenny glanced at his watch and figured out what was going. Nick had been gone for about 45 minutes and Tracey for the past twenty minutes. He glowered; it was like this college. The chicks all hitting on Nick; leaving ole Kenny in the dust with nothing but leftovers and grateful types. Now Nick was this bit-time successful crime fighter and Kenny was nothing more then a security guard. He almost puked when his 'old friend' preached about 'life being too short' and 'just taking it one day at a time and stopping to smell the flowers.'

What the hell did Nick Stokes know? He had it all.

Just then Nick stumbled back from the bathroom looking sheepish and disheveled with on end of his shirt hanging over the waist and the other tucked in.

Nick also looked very annoyed at the moment and he was. He couldn't believe what he did back there!!! Thank God he was prepared and the alcohol hadn't dimmed his wits entirely.

He took his jacket off the hook and slid it on. Nick was starting to feel worse at every second. He had nothing left in his stomach, but he lurched again after his little romp in the bathroom with what whatsername? She looked rather grossed out and left abruptly. So barfing after his romp had its upside as well.

He hardly noticed Kenny's angry glare.

"Where's Tracey Nick?" He asked.

"Dunno!" He answered, "But I know where I'm going." Nick pulled out his wallet and left a couple of twenties on the table. "This one's on me. I'm going home." He turned and was overcome by a cramp that gripped his gut. He grabbed the corner of the nearest table as the waitress with the pierced nose asked him if he needed help. Nick shook his head.

Kenny wasn't done with Nick. Not just yet.

"Yeah, some things never change Stokes, you always got everything. Just as you did then, you think you're just too damn fucking good. You are so fucking self-absorbed!!" He called after the sick man.

Nick stopped and sighed; shaking his head he turned and walked back to the table where his 'old friend' sat, eyes filled with rage and little something else called jealousy rearing its ugly, green head. The CSI leaned on the table with his palms and looked at the guy right in the eye the way he did with suspects whom he just nailed with incriminating evidence.

"No Kenny. I don't always get everything. I've had plenty of troubled times especially since I came here."

Nick straightened up, his head swimming with the movement. He saw himself in the mirror and his body movement resembled the jerky, spastic moves of Captain Jack Sparrow complete with bad hygiene. In fact, all he needed was a pirate's gear and a monkey to shoot at.

_Speaking of which, where's Ecklie when you need him?_

"So what happened in the bathroom Stokes?" Kenny yelled as the patrons turned around to look. Curious as to the answer since the cheap blonde who had been hitting on all of them earlier had stealthily departed.

The bartender who was shaking a martini glanced over wondering if he needed to call for reinforcements.

"None of your business." Nick answered civilly. The cheap thrill had indeed made her get away. What the hell was he thinking!? Grissom's angry voice raged in his head.

Same answer this time Grissom. Impulsivity had ruled his grey matter-again. Just as Nick found he had a reign on that monkey on his back, he went did and something real stupid again.

Another cramp seized his guy, doubling him over. He breathed heavily and then started for the door again. Oblivious to Kenny's boiling rage.

"Awww poor baby!" Kenny sneered, "You gonna cry for us again like you did when they brought you outghta that hole. Got lots of friends in LVPD who told me you cried and cried and held your boss's hand like a little boy. What a wimp you are?!!!"

Nick slowly turned around. His illness forgotten as rage-induced adrenalin mixed with testosterone took charge. He stalked over menacingly to his 'ole friend'; grabbed him by the scruff off of his cheap uniform shirt; lifted out of his seat and held him up to his face to make sure that his friend got the damn point.

The entire bar grew silent as the drama unfolded before. The bald bartender continued to mix drinks, but watched peripherally. Hand near the red button to get the cops over.

"If I was wuss," Nick told Kenny his voice tight, "I would have put that gun, left in the coffin with me, to my mouth and blown my brains out long before they found me. You, man, wouldn't have lasted two hours down there!!!"

Kenny was white with fear as he came face-to-face with Nick's rage. This was a side of the guy he never seen before and truth be known, he'd like to not to know it even now.

"Hey Nick, sorry man, just joking." Kenny said trying to pry himself loose from the vice grip Nick on his collar. He was so close he could smell the mixture of mint gum, vomit and booze on the CSI's breath. Disappointingly, he also smelled cheap perfume.

Nick lifted him up a little higher then let go of the college buddy and relished in the sound of his friend falling flat on his ass in the middle of the bar.

He knelt down and stared coldly at the coward who was crawling crab-like away as fast he could muster the strength.

"Next time you see me, pretend you dunno know me." Nick warned in a low, guttural voice.

With those words, he stood up and stormed out the bar, slamming the door behind him as everyone turned to look any way but his.

The rain was pouring down outside the bar.

Nick groaned and then cried out sharply as his stomach lurched once again. He stumbled towards the road trying to find a cab, but in this weather that would be nearly impossible.

He couldn't hold back any longer and he crouched down behind a limousine, barfing up whatever his stomach had left in it. After he sat on the edge of the curb and broke down, crying at the senselessness of tonight's events.

Alcohol was good for making bad decisions and for showing emotion; both of which was on the menu for him tonight.

The rain soaked every inch of him and he was shivering so badly his teeth chattered. It was good though because he could cry and no one could tell the difference between the rain and tears. Once the dizziness subsided, he would simply call a cab. If he could get through?

Catherine Willows sighed heavily at the sight of the rain as she left the posh restaurant her father, Sam Braun, and she had dined in. They had taken time out of their hectic schedules so they could continue their achingly slow process of putting troubled pasts behind them.

Catherine, blonde hair in an upsweep, was dressed in a deep green, velvet, spaghetti-strapped sequined dress, but she had forgotten her coat. Braun took his own coat off and wrapped it around her shoulders and escorted her through the revolving doors and as they made haste to the limousine.

Catherine stopped in horror at what she saw behind the limousine.

Nick Stokes, soaking, vomiting and moaning, and grabbing on to the bumper of Sam's limousine as he tried to pull himself into a standing position. A splash of which hit the shiney, pristine bumper.

"Damn idiot drunk!!" Sam cursed, enraged by the sight of his driver dozing at the wheel unaware of the action taking place behind the vehicle.

"That's not just any drunk," Catherine told him, "That's Nick."

Sam looked at the drenched man in surprise, "The Nick Stokes you paid a heavy ransom for."

Catherine nodded sadly and looked up at her dad, "Don't remind me Sam." She went over to Nick to try and help him.

"Nick!" she scolded, "What the hell do you think you are doing?" Catherine tried to pull him up, but he was too heavy for her and she wound up on top of him.

"Well!" Nick smiled through a haze, "I guess you always liked being on top didn't you Catherine!"

Catherine pulled herself off of him. Not only was Nick looking like a soaking wet dog with sad droopy eyes, he reaked of cheap booze, a cheap bar, and cheap broad to boot.

"Good God Nick," Catherine scolded as Sam came over and helped her pull the drunken man to his feet.

"Just having a few drink with an old friend." Nick slurred and smiled at Sam, "Hey man, haven't seen you around. Got any DB's for us to investigate!"

Braun shook his head and said to Catherine, "I guess your gonna want to take him home, hey Mugs!"

Catherine looked at her dad, pleadingly, "I..I just can't leave him here Sam."

Braun motioned the now-awake driver to open the door for them. He did so and father and daughter escorted the beleaguered man over and helped him get into the back of the limo and got in with him. Catherine handed her father his jacket back, but instead he told her to cover her friend with it. Catherine did so; surprised at her father's sudden paternalism towards Nick.

At they drove away, Nick's world turned into one big wave, throwing him around and unknowingly he leaned his head onto Catherine's bare shoulder.

Catherine smiled softly for second before realizing that instead of cold, wet skin on her shoulder, the face was burning hot. She felt Nick's forehead."

"Sam, we need to get Nick to the hospital, he's burning up!" She said her voice edged with concern, "I know he was complaining about a headache at work today."

She lifted Nick's head off her shoulders gently. In the soft lights of the limo, she could see that his face was pallor. Catherine allowed Nick to lay his head back down on her as his teeth chattered softly.

"I'm so-so-cold Catherine," he mumbled, his voice barely audible, "Just so cold."

Sam's blue eyes studied the sick man before him and he hastily picked up the phone to the limo driver and ordered him to take them immediately to Shady Palms Hospital.

Catherine smiled gratefully at her father and stroked Nick's face, pulling the coat closer up to the chin and assured him he would be okay.

Nick heard the soothing words and was barely conscious when he was brought to the hospital. Braun ordered the driver to get a wheel chair as he helped Catherine gently pull Nick out of the limo. The driver was back in a flash and Nick was placed in the chair and wheeled in.

"You Mr. Stokes have a nasty case of food poisoning."

The young ER doctor, looking a bit like clean-cut Greg, announced this diagnosis to Catherine and Nick as if he had just discovered new land.

Nick laid on the gurney in a hospital gown Catherine had helped to put on despite protestations from him and assurance from Catherine that she wouldn't peek and those wet clothes had to come off. All of them. And the nurses were all busy, very busy she insisted.

_Of course she would never admit that she did take a sneak peak and secretly reveled in the knowledge she held of the Crime Lab betting pool of whether he wore boxers or briefs. That was all because she pulled a white sheet over him as the last layer of clothes were removed. It was fun while it lasted._

Now Nick, colour slowly returning to his face, sat befuddled by tonight's turn of events, "Why do I keep eating at that stupid diner. It's obviously cursed. First my truck; then I get food poisoning!"

The doctor smiled, "Staphylococcal food poisoning is caused by eating foods contaminated with toxins. The toxins attacked your intestines causing the vomiting, cramps and fever. It's a common problem we see for people eating out. The Centre for Disease Control gets thousands of complaints a year. Usually it's found in baked goods, sliced meats and so forth. What did you eat today?"

Nick made a face, "I had a sandwich, turkey I think and some pie..I can't remember, it was some cream-filled thing. What kind of toxin did you say it was?"

"It's a toxin produced by the Staphylococcal aureus bacteria. If food isn't stored properly it can multiply rapidly without any evidence of food spoilage. What time did you eat this food."

"Probably about noon."

"And you started to feel symptoms at about?"

"Between five and six."

The doctor, knowing full well he was preaching to the choir in terms of science nerds and crime fighters at that, continued his peacock display of knowledge, "The exotoxins produced by Staphylococcus aureaus has also has been studied as a potential biological agents of war because it can be aerosolized, and is stable and definitely can cause widespread systemic damage, multi-organ system failure and even shock and death when it is inhaled in extremely high dosages."

Catherine smiled at the doctor and Nick, "Staphylococcus aureaus is also known to cause symptoms of Toxic Shock Syndrome in women wearing tampons because the tampons facilitate the infections through lacerations and ulcerations of the vaginal cause by the use of such products. The lacerations allow the bacteria of the vaginal wall. Those super absorbent ones that some of us women like to wear can be particularly dangerous cause they stick to the vaginal wall and when pulled, a layer of the vaginal lining may be scraped off."

The men stared at Catherine who simply responded to said looks with, "I did an essay on it in one of my science classes."

"Well," the doctor said, "Mr. Stokes we've treated you with electrolytes to offset the dehydration you were experiencing and other then that, you simply need to rest and get plenty of fluids.

The doctor bid farewell and rushed off through the curtains.

Catherine smiled at Nick, "Well it looks like you can go."

"My clothes are soaking wet." He whined sitting up straight on the gurney.

Catherine held a plastic bag of dry clothes, "Sam had his driver go over to the Lab and buy you some dry clothes, on him. Don't worry about the bill. It's on me."

She placed the bag nonchalantly on the bed as Nick looked in, "Your driver knows my tastes."

"I told him what your favourite place to shop was and left it to a t-shirt, jeans and your favourite brand of boxer-briefs."

Nick's head shot up and he looked straight at Catherine who was smiled at him coyly.

"Do you need me to help you dress?" She asked demurely, strands of hair framing her face.

"No. I think, I can manage now. That IV did the trick, guess I was pretty dehydrated after tonight."

She turned her back to him while he put the new clothes on, although he moved the sheets about so if temptation raised its head to Catherine again, he was prepared.

"So Nicky," She asked putting her Supervisor voice back on, "What happened tonight? Never pictured you having a go with a bar broad wearing cheap perfume."

She could hear the sounds of him dressing come to an abrupt halt.

"I worked in Strip Club Nick, you smelt like some of the girls I worked with."

He started again, "Ran into Kenny Richmond, you know from Murder Central, the guy who ratted on me at Murder Central a year back."

"Oh yeah!" Catherine groaned, "Him."

"Yeah, well I went for a drink with him and it lead to another and everything spiraled from there." Nick told her as he slid the jeans on over his boxers, and reached into the bag for some dry socks. "Then I started to feel sick and she followed me into the stall and things got out of hand."

"Not like you Nicky."

"After a few beers and weakened immune system, anything's possible." He sighed sounding sincerely remorseful.

"You were smart.."

"Of course.."

"Just checking Nicky."

"Anyways, Kenny gets into a beef with me saying I got it all and stuff…" Nick slid into his shoes. "Kay I'm decent."

Catherine turned around and smiled sympathetically at her colleague, "Well I guess we have our off days don't we Nicky."

Nick sighed, "I was just hitchin' a ride and then.."

"Forget about it." Catherine strolled over and slid her arm through his, "Let's get you home."

She placed a call on her cell phone and 10 minutes later, Braun was there at the front doors of the ER, limo driver hopping out and opening the door for them.

Surprised, Nick got into the vehicle after Catherine where Braun looking slightly tired sat looking at Nick sternly.

"Well Mr. Stokes, glad to see you're feeling. So will we be seeing more of you around those parts of Vegas?"

Catherine looked at Nick as he answered, "No sir, I won't be hoppin' on that wagon anytime soon."

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End file.
